#give me earnest sincerity and a refusal to

[guardianlioness]

The core to every story that I love is sincerity.

[andromeda3116]

people actually went on about how game of thrones made it socially acceptable to be a fantasy nerd, as though the lord of the rings movies hadn't been released less than a decade earlier and left far greater cultural ripples and i am just

got may have made the adults feel better about liking fantasy, but lotr got into the kids' heads when they (we) were just young and impressionable enough to be absolutely transported and emotionally rewritten by don't you leave him, samwise gamgee and my brother, my captain, my king and and rohan will answer

lotr was rewriting entire generations' brain chemistry long before asoiaf and so obviously it's not fair to compare any post-lotr fantasy novel to it, and each book series was trying to do different things within their own spheres and so that also is not a fair comparison, but in terms of the cultural impact of the adaptations that came out within a decade of each other, saying that it was game of thrones that made fantasy mainstream is baffling

game of thrones could only run because the lord of the rings movies laid the path, and i will die on this hill

[vmlnrznotfound]

OMG!! REQUESTS OPEN? hehe

Can I request the Chigiri + Kunigami version of "MY GIRL IS MAD AT ME, I HOPE I DIE." Series please? 🧎🏻‍♀️

I LOVE IT SO MUCH I'M GIGGLING EVERYTIME I READ IT FRFR xD

Also, have a good day 😌✨

[PART4] MY GIRL IS MAD AT ME, I HOPE I DIE.

characters: chigiri, kunigami, oliver, shidou, kurona, yukimiya

a/n: hi lovelies! here's your requests done<333

CHIGIRI HYOMA

hyoma stood by the door, his eyes focused on you as you sat on the couch, pointedly ignoring him. the silent treatment was in full effect, and it was eating at him.

he quietly walked over, sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. “i know you’re mad,” he began softly, his voice gentle, “and i probably deserve this.”

you didn’t look at him, your attention fixed on the magazine in your hands. chigiri sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to reach you.

“i hate it when we’re like this,” he admitted, the usual confidence in his tone replaced by sincerity. “i know i messed up, but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

you shifted slightly, but your eyes remained glued to the page. chigiri leaned in a little closer, careful not to crowd you. “i just want to fix this, to make things right again. i’ll wait as long as it takes for you to talk to me.”

still no response, but the tension in your posture seemed to ease ever so slightly. chigiri took a deep breath, willing to wait for however long you needed, because he cared too much to leave things as they were.

he stayed by your side, a silent promise that he wouldn’t give up on you.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

you stood by the kitchen sink, your back to kunigami. the silence between you two was heavy, and you were determined to keep it that way. after all, he had been late—again—leaving you waiting in the rain. you weren’t ready to forgive him just yet.

kunigami stood in the doorway, his eyes on you. “i’m sorry,” he said softly, but you didn’t turn around.

he sighed, then walked up behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. you shrugged it off, still refusing to speak.

kunigami took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. he knew he’d messed up, but seeing you so distant hurt more than he expected.

he placed his hand on your shoulder again, this time with a bit more persistence. “please, just talk to me.”

you turned slowly to face him, your expression a mix of frustration and sadness. kunigami's eyes softened as he looked at you, his voice even softer. “i know i’ve been unreliable. i’m sorry for letting you down, and i don’t have an excuse. but i want to make it right. i’ll do whatever it takes to show you i can change.”

you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made your resolve waver. so you silently opened your arms, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

OLIVER AIKU

you were mad—furious with your boyfriend. oliver aiku had pushed your buttons one too many times, and now you were giving him the silent treatment.

sitting on the edge of the bed, your eyes were glued to your phone, deliberately avoiding any acknowledgment of him. the room was thick with tension, and every second seemed to stretch longer than the last. oliver’s footsteps were hesitant as he approached, his presence nearly tangible in the quiet air.

he knelt down beside you, his posture a mixture of apology and desperation. his expression was earnest, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. “come on, please,” he murmured, his voice gentle yet laced with the weight of his remorse. “i’m really sorry.”

you shifted your gaze, still not meeting his eyes. the silence between you was almost deafening. undeterred, oliver’s hands moved slowly, starting to massage your legs with a delicate touch.

his voice was a constant murmur of apologies, an attempt to bridge the gap you had so carefully maintained. “i know i messed up, but please, just give me a chance to make it right.”

his hands inched higher, their warmth gradually becoming more insistent. your patience waned, and finally, you placed your foot on his shoulder, gently pushing him away. “watch your hands,” you said, your tone sharp and frosty.

oliver’s face fell, a mixture of regret and determination reflecting in his eyes. he remained on the floor, his gaze fixed on you with unwavering resolve. “i’ll wait until you’re ready to talk,” he said softly, “but i’m not going anywhere.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI

shidou leaned against the doorframe, watching you flip through a magazine, pretending not to notice him. he walked over, plopped down beside you, and started chatting about a game-winning goal, but you stayed silent, focused on your magazine.

leaning closer, he rested his chin on your shoulder. “you’re really cute when you’re mad,” he murmured.

you shifted, trying to get comfortable.

“i could keep talking about how much i adore you,” he said, “but i’ll just stay here until you give in.”

minutes passed, and you closed the magazine with a snap. you moved to the other end of the couch and turned on the tv. shidou watched you, smiling.

“silent treatment, huh?” he said. “i’m sorry, okay? i messed up, and i’ll keep messing up because i’m human, but i can’t stand it when you’re mad at me like this.”

you glanced at him briefly, and he saw it as a small victory. he slid closer, closing the gap between you. “i know you’re stubborn, and you’ve got every right to be. but i’m not going anywhere. i’ll wait until you’re ready to talk to me again.”

you stayed silent, but there was a softness in your posture. shidou stayed close, content to wait. the tv droned on in the background as you both settled into a quiet peace.

KURONA RANZE

you’ve been ignoring kurona for the better part of the day, and he knows it. usually, you’d laugh at him or at least respond when he calls your name, but today? it’s different. he can feel it. so, naturally, kurona decides to pull out all the stops to get you to break your silence.

it starts with the little things. he brings you your favorite snack, placing it on the table next to you with a sheepish grin. but you don’t even glance his way. next, he tries to make fun of himself to get you to laugh—juggling random items he finds around the room, almost dropping one just to see if you’ll react. nothing. you stay focused on your book, or at least pretend to be.

kurona huffs, finally getting serious. he slips out of the room, mumbling something about needing fresh air.

when he comes back, he’s carrying something behind his back, his expression one of pure determination. he takes a deep breath and walks over to where you’re sitting on the couch, still glued to your phone.

he pulls out a giant shark plushie from behind his back. it’s soft and kind of goofy-looking. "shark shark," he says, grabbing your attention. "want to say sorry on my behalf,"

you try your best to ignore him, but kurona’s earnestness is too endearing.

“talk, talk,” he continues, wiggling the plushie closer to you.

you remain silent, but your resolve is starting to crack.

“he says he’s really sorry,” kurona persists, his tone now softer. “he didn’t mean to upset you, and he promises he’ll never do it again.”

YUKIMIYA KENYU

the kitchen smells like something went horribly wrong. yukimiya stands in the middle of the mess, looking at the charred remains of what was supposed to be your favorite dish. the counters are splattered with sauce, and the pan on the stove is emitting a thin wisp of smoke. he runs a hand through his hair, frustration mixing with guilt as he surveys the disaster.

he wanted to make it up to you, to do something special that would show how much he cared. but instead, he’s only made things worse.

you walk into the kitchen, your expression unreadable as you take in the scene. yukimiya freezes, eyes widening as you approach the counter. he watches as you grab a tissue, silently wiping at a particularly stubborn stain, your face void of emotion. the silent treatment you’ve been giving him continues, and it cuts deeper than any angry words ever could.

“hey,” yukimiya starts, his voice tentative, filled with regret. “i’m…i’m so sorry.”

you don’t acknowledge him. you just keep wiping the counter, your movements slow and deliberate, as if focusing on the task is the only thing keeping you from saying something you might regret.

“i’m sorry for messing up the kitchen,” he adds, trying to make you look at him, desperate for any sign that you’re willing to talk to him. “and...i’m sorry for everything else, too. i didn’t mean for things to go this way.”

but you remain silent. yukimiya’s heart sinks as he watches you finish wiping the counter. you set the crumpled tissue down and, without a word, turn to leave the kitchen. his chest tightens as he watches you go, feeling like he’s losing you all over again.

as you disappear into the hallway, heading towards your bedroom, yukimiya lets out a long sigh. he leans against the counter, staring at the mess he’s made, both in the kitchen and between the two of you. he’s about to start cleaning up when his phone buzzes with a notification.

pulling it out of his pocket, he sees a text from you. his breath catches in his throat as he reads it:

'dinner. your treat.'

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

I’m on a plane rn, I’m bored and I’ve been having unholy thoughts about the short king~

Thinking about how he goes down on you with such enthusiasm, such vigor. Not forceful or wild, but filled with so much passion, like he craves your taste more than life itself. Over and over and over again, he brings you such sweet pleasure that it’s almost overwhelming. Almost. But the truth is, you can’t get enough of him, seeing him buried between your thighs makes your head fuzzy. This man relishes in giving you as many orgasms as physically possible. He won’t stop until you say so. The languid licks of his tongue up your drenched slit, his lips sucking on your sensitive clit, your walls clenching around his fingers as he thrusts them in and out of you relentlessly.

And don’t even get me started on the way he praises you. Telling you how much he loves tasting you, how delicious you are. Whispering sweet nothings into your skin, saying that he could stay there for eternity with complete and earnest sincerity. And how could you not believe him when he makes you feel this good? Getting you off is the only thing that matters to him, even at the cost of his own pleasure. You can tell when he starts to falter when he starts to grind his hips into the bedsheets below, like he has no more control over his own body. Even if you insist on taking care of him, he refuses. He begs you to let him pull just one more orgasm out of you, just one more.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can I request how Alastor would be when wifey was giving birth to any of the kids??

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Childbirth?

Description: 👆⬆️

When you go into labor, Alastor is probably in an overlord meeting or something when he gets the news

On the outside he's very calm, simply nodding and standing up while dusting himself off

"Ah, my most sincere apologies but I really must be going! Carmilla, your assistance would be deeply appreciated!"

Carmilla immediately gets the hint and ends the meeting early, Zestial and her daughters trailing behind her

Of course all the other overlords are curious af but Alastor doesn't give them the satisfaction of an answer

"Is it your pretty wife, radioman? She having the baby already?!"

Velvette is shoving her phone in his face and already opening up all her social media apps, Alastor simply walking around her

"Another time, my dear Velvette~"

In fact, he's all laid back smiles and effortless charm just like always, despite everyone else around him panicking

Charlie

"Charlie~ My dear, you must calm down! My wife is the strongest woman I know! She will be fine..!"

He instills confidence in everyone else around him until he's actually alone with you

Husk is the only one who sees through his facade but doesn't comment on it, simply sliding Alastor a single shot to knock back

He refuses to let anybody in that isn't strictly necessary, so Charlie is booted out, and Niffty has to be escorted out like five times

He tries to convince Zestial to leave, but at that point, he's much too focused on you

His grip on your hand is just as tight as your own and his smile is strained with worry, his usual air of confidence has now turned into quiet anxiety

Alastor's lips are nearly pressed against your temple as he whispers soft words of encouragement and apologies to you, rubbing your hip soothingly

If you're in a lot of pain or the birth is extremely traumatic for you then he'll feel guilty and give Lucifer a few dirty looks because it's partly his fault too

He is very soft and gentle with you throughout the entire labor process no matter how you treat him, he's only worried about you and the pain you're in

"This is all your fault! You did this to me!You terrible man!!"

"I know, darling... I'm sorry, please forgive me."

Once you've given birth then he's wiping sweat from your forehead and telling you how proud he is of you, cooing at you and trying to make you smile even though you're exhausted

"Even when you've been through such an ordeal, you're just as beautiful as ever, darling~"

Of course he's super interested in the baby too, checking them over and just watching you hold them with a lovesick expression

Your husband is also eager to hold his child, singing you to sleep while rocking the baby in his arms

He dotes on you and the baby, making sure every need is taken care of and crawling into bed to join the snuggles if you let him

He absolutely doesn't leave your side until you're practically begging him to give you space, and even then, he's reluctant to leave

"Darling, surely an hour is too long? Can't we shave it down to thirty minutes and I'll bring you back some jambalaya?"

He has the biggest, sweetest, most earnest look on his face. You almost forget he's a cold-blooded killer and a demonic overlord

"Make it forty minutes and bring me an extra pillow, please?"

"It's a deal~"

It's so sweet and domestic that it makes his teeth hurt, but he wouldn't trade it for the world

[strnsvt]

can you do No 5 for jeonghan please. Thank youu

yoon jeonghan — under the shelter of love and hatred.

from the casual remarks jeonghan threw your way to the smirks that followed, he had a way of making your day just a bit more irritating. since the day you stepped into university, jeonghan had always managed to get on your nerves. you didn’t fight back, though. you figured ignoring him was the best strategy.

whenever he was around his friends, it was the same old story. jeonghan would throw out a snide comment, and you’d let it roll off your back, pretending it didn’t bother you. his friends would laugh, he’d flash that infuriating smile, and life would go on.

but when the two of you were alone, things were different. it was as if a switch had flipped. he was...nice. almost considerate, even. you’d catch glimpses of a jeonghan that was kind and understanding. he’d ask how your day was, offer to help with your assignments, and share bits of his own life with you. it was confusing, to say the least.

today was no different. you sat in the library, your books spread out in front of you. you were trying to focus on your studies, but the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you out of your concentration. jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, a rare, genuine smile on his face.

“hey,” he said softly. “need any help with that?”

you glanced up, wary. “i’m fine.”

he leaned back, watching you with those piercing eyes. “you always say that. but i know this stuff can be tough.”

you sighed, closing your book. “why do you do that?”

“do what?” he tilted his head, genuinely curious.

“be nice when we’re alone, but a complete jerk when others are around.”

he looked away, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his face. “i...don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“of course, you don’t,” you muttered, opening your book again. “forget i said anything.”

the library door opened, and a group of students walked in. jeonghan straightened up immediately, his friendly demeanor vanishing. “oh, look at you, pretending to study again,” he sneered, loud enough for them to hear.

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay calm. “go away, jeonghan.”

he laughed, leaning back in his chair as his friends joined your table. they laughed at his remark, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere.

later, as you were speaking with a classmate who had been persistently confessing his feelings, jeonghan appeared again. despite your attempts to politely decline his advances, the guy refused to back down. just as you were about to end the conversation, jeonghan intervened.

“hey, man,” jeonghan said, stepping between you and the classmate. “give it a rest. she’s already said no.”

the guy looked taken aback but didn’t back down. “come on, she just said she’d think about it.”

jeonghan’s patience snapped. “no, she said no. now back off.”

he grabbed your arms and started pulling you away, ignoring your protests. “jeonghan, let go! what are you doing?”

“just come with me,” he said, his tone firm.

as the rain began to fall, jeonghan pulled you toward a nearby shelter with only one small chair under the roof. he gestured for you to sit, and you did, watching the rain.

jeonghan stood in front of you, his expression serious. he suddenly sank to his knees in front of you, looking up with rare vulnerability. “hey,” he said softly. “i need to apologize.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but he placed a finger over his lips, shushing you gently. “i know i’ve been stupid, selfish, and arrogant. i’ve been an idiot, making your life harder and trying to mess with you.”

“jeonghan, you—”

“let me finish,” he interrupted. “i won’t bother you anymore. i won’t make fun of you or irritate you. i just...please, go out with me.”

his sudden confession and earnest plea took you by surprise. the rain fell steadily around you, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. the sincerity in jeonghan’s eyes was clear, and the weight of his words hung heavily between you.

you looked at him, unsure of how to respond. “jeonghan...”

“please,” he said quietly. “just give me a chance.”

“and that’s how me and your ma started dating,” jeonghan concluded with a chuckle, his voice filled with nostalgia and affection.

ara’s eyes sparkled. “so, you really did all that just to ask her out?”

jeonghan nodded, a playful grin on his face. “i kinda regret bullying her. but your ma is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

she giggled, “woah, dad,"

jeonghan ruffled her hair affectionately. “well, that’s how we ended up here. and remember, no matter what, always be true to yourself, just like your ma and i tried to be.”

ara hugged him tightly. “thanks for the story, dad.”

jeonghan smiled, his heart full as he looked at ara. “anytime, sweetheart. anytime.”

[doodle-pops]

˖ ࣪ .Giving Them The Silent Treatment˖ ࣪ .

Headcanon: Amras, Argon, Angrod, Egalmoth, Gil Galad

Synopsis: In which they attempt to end the silent torture via their skillful methods.

˚₊‧꒰ა Amras — 𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔. 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐.

Amras walked softly into the room, glancing at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The silence between you was heavy, each of his attempts to break it met with your determined silence. “Are you still angry with me?” he asked gently, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You turned away, unable to meet his eyes, leading to him approaching, and sitting down beside you on the bed. The warmth of his presence was comforting, even though you still refused to speak.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he continued, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “But I want to make it right. Please, let me try.”

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, delicate flower, its petals a soft shade of blue. With a smile, he tucked it behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You know,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity, “this flower reminds me of how I feel about you. It’s rare and beautiful, just like you.”

His eyes met yours, filled with an earnest hope. There was softness in his gaze and sincerity in his voice as they broke through your stubbornness. Turning to him, your eyes reflected a mixture of frustration and affection.

“Why do you have to be so charming?” you finally spoke, your voice softening.

Amras’s face broke into a relieved, affectionate smile. “Because I’m in love with you,” he said, leaning closer. “And I’d do anything to see you smile again.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the warmth of his love melting away your stubbornness.

˚₊‧꒰ა Argon — 𝑨𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕, 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐, 𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

His usually bright and cheerful demeanour dimmed with each moment of your silence. “Are you really not going to talk to me?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. You on the other hand, remained silent, your eyes focused on anything but him.

He pouted, his lips forming a perfect, sorrowful curve. “You know I hate it when you do this,” he whined, but you stood firm, arms crossed.

Trying everything he could think of to get your attention, he started by bringing you your favourite flowers and holding them out with an apologetic smile. And when you didn’t respond, he’d place them gently on the table next to you, hoping their fragrance would soften your irritation.

“Please, just talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper while you remained silent with your aching heart.

Next, he tried to make you laugh, performing exaggerated antics and telling jokes that usually had you in stitches. But today, you didn’t even crack a smile, urging his frustration to grow as he huffed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

Finally, he resorted to his last tactic: sheer stubbornness. He followed you around, a constant presence, or rather, a pest, at your side, refusing to leave you alone. “I’ll stay right here until you talk to me,” he declared, his tone both petulant and determined.

You sighed inwardly. His persistence was endearing, and you knew you couldn’t hold out forever. With a soft smile, you turned to him and said, “You’re more annoying than you give yourself credit. You do know that?”

His face lit up with relief and joy. “Ah, you had finally spoken! I’m sorry,” he said quickly, wrapping his arms around you. “I promise I’ll do better. Just please, don’t ever stop talking to me again.”

“Fine then, I won’t ignore you,” you whispered. “However, because I’m still upset, no cuddling for a while.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Angrod — 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒓, 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

The silence between you and Angrod had stretched for days. You sat in the common room of your shared quarters, reading a book while deliberately ignoring his attempts to bridge the gap. Each time he approached, you responded with nothing more than a silent nod or a hum, your eyes never leaving the pages.

Angrod tried to mask his frustration, though his usual easygoing demeanour was slipping. He’d attempt small talk, casually asking about your day or mentioning something interesting he’d learned, but your responses remained minimal. It was clear he was struggling to decipher what had gone wrong.

But it wasn’t until you started sleeping on the sofa, leaving Angrod to his solitude in the bed, that the full weight of your silent treatment hit him. The normally calm and composed elf began to crumble. He’d mutter to himself as he walked through the room, bumping into furniture and huffing with annoyance like an insane person.

When you finally noticed him pacing and mumbling, it was clear that the silence, while intended to make him reflect, was also gnawing at him more than you’d anticipated.

Hence why the next morning, you woke to find Angrod asleep on the sofa beside you, his face creased with worry and exhaustion, making him appear like a wrinkly old man.

“Hey,” you said, your voice warmer than intended. Angrod blinked open his eyes, seeing you with a mixture of relief and lingering frustration.

“Are you finally tal—Yes, my love,” he answered, quickly, recollecting himself and rubbing his eyes to fully wake up before he said something out of turn.

You nodded, your heart softening as you took his hand. “Yes, I’m finally awake and ready to talk, but let’s have breakfast first. You’re cooking though, so don’t burn anything.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Egalmoth — 𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐, 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑯𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

Egalmoth paced the length of the garden, his usual composed demeanour replaced by visible frustration. You sat on a stone bench, steadfastly ignoring him, your gaze fixed on the blooming roses. It had been three days since you’d last spoken to him, and he was growing increasingly desperate.

“Will you please talk to me, my love,” he said, his voice a mix of irritation and pleading. “The silence is too loud.”

Giving no indication that you heard him, maintaining your silence, Egalmoth sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I’d rather you punish me any other way than this silent treatment,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

His words hung in the air, but you remained calm which caused him to huff in frustration and storm off, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Minutes later, the sound of a clatter reached your ears, and you glanced over to see Egalmoth sprawled on the ground with a nearby ladder and several fallen books scattered around him.

“Curse this clumsiness,” he groaned, holding his ankle. Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to remain seated.

Egalmoth’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain—not just from his injury, but from your silence. He had gone out of his way to create a situation where you had no choice but to speak with him, even if it meant injuring himself.

You stood up, your stubbornness wavering. As you approached, he winced, clearly in discomfort. “Are you alright?” you finally asked, unable to maintain your silent treatment any longer.

Relief washed over his face despite his pain. “I will be, now that you’re talking to me,” he said, his voice softer. “I’ve missed your voice more than you know.”

You sighed, kneeling beside him to assess his injury. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, but there was no anger in your tone—only a reluctant affection.

Egalmoth smiled, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “And you’re everything to me,” he replied, his eyes filled with love. “Never leave me in silence again.”

You nodded, helping him to his feet. “Just don’t hurt yourself next time,” you said, your voice laced with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

“I’ll try,” he promised, leaning on you for support. “But only if you promise to talk to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head. “Deal.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Gil Galad — 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒅𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Gil-galad found you in the garden, the serene beauty of the flowering landscape contrasting with the cold silence you were giving him. For days, you had been distant, offering only curt nods and avoiding eye contact. He respected your space, but it was beginning to wear on him. He approached cautiously, his expression a mix of concern and gentle resolve.

“Is there an limit on words, or have I simply been unlucky in conversation?” he asked, attempting a lighthearted tone. He knelt beside you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of the warmth that once was there.

You remained silent, focused on the vibrant petals of a nearby flower. Gil-galad sighed, sitting down beside you. “If this is some form of punishment, I must say, I’m terribly uninitiated,” he continued, his voice softening. “But I’d very much like to understand what’s troubling you, or at least, share a smile.”

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong. Even a King can be humbled by the silence of someone he holds dear.”

The sincerity in his voice finally broke through, bringing your eyes to meet his, and your vexation melting away gently.

Masterlist

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[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

Sign of Good Luck - Blooming Jasmine

Another #delulu to welcome Zayne's newest myth!

Hope you've been enjoying all my delulus so far ^^

You met Zayne in the destined mountain.....

Sign of Good Luck - Blooming Jasmine

In a dense forest on the peak of Mount Shen, located east of the village of Shen Kong, there stands a temple said to be the dwelling of a deity known for foreseeing destinies and maintaining the balance of all things, much like the tales of reincarnation and transmigration you had read about in ancient stories. If you recall correctly from your readings, this deity was named Si Ming Xian Jun—the Lord of Fate, a god renowned for his icy gaze and unwavering demeanor, regardless of the chaos around him.

A deity free from desires, for in his eyes, nothing mattered more than sustaining the balance and mysteries of the world.

The mere thought of encountering this deity to plead for something so unusual made you hesitate. You knew your intentions were impure and feared that if the deity perceived your calculative nature, he would despise you and refuse your plea. Yet, for the sake of your parents, and yourself, you had to seize this chance, knowing your time was running out.

You were an orphan taken in by a couple who gave you a life when they found you wandering in the forest as a child. They never spoke of your past, as you could not remember where you came from. You only knew this was your home, a place you had longed for. Happiness, however, was fleeting; as you grew, your health deteriorated. Despite their efforts, your condition worsened. Then, one day, a mysterious figure offered a cure on the condition that you travel east to find the legendary Si Ming Xian Jun and become his disciple. In desperation, you accepted.

Defying your parents' objections, you embarked on your journey. Miraculously, the remedy given by the mysterious figure took immediate effect, revitalizing you. This newfound strength spurred you on your path to the east.

Crossing mountains and forests, you finally reached the village at the mountain's foot. The villagers were astonished at your quest but kindly directed you to a small cottage, once home to a benefactor who had helped the village. The cottage, though cold, felt warm and welcoming.

Having prepared yourself, you ventured into the forest. Following the book's guidance, you knew the deity never abandoned those lost in his domain, especially those in need. Lost in thought, you found yourself deeper in the woods, enveloped by a fog that sapped your strength, leading you to collapse, surrendering to fate.

As if destined, a dark figure approached, exuding the soothing breath of spring mixed with winter's chill, cradling you into slumber.

*******************************************************************

The chime of wind bells woke you. A strange ceiling, a soft bed, and an unfamiliar scent.

“You’re awake?”

A deep, gentle voice accompanied the breeze, brushing your hair and tickling your ears. Recognizing your situation and the presence before you, you attempted to kneel in supplication, only to be restrained by a firm hand.

“I do not accept obeisance without knowing your name and identity. Speak, who are you?”

The commanding warmth in the voice left you fumbling for words.

“A… humble maiden… here to seek Si Ming Xian Jun.”

Receiving no response, you gathered courage, your voice growing bolder.

“Please, Xian Jun, help this humble maiden… I have but one request.”

Drawing a deep breath, you summoned your courage.

“Allow me to become your disciple!”

You bowed deeply, placing your hands on your knees in a gesture of earnest supplication. Silence ensued, the only sound being the rustling of leaves.

Time seemed to stretch as you maintained your pose, hoping your sincerity would touch the deity. Just as you thought you might give up, a resigned sigh broke the silence.

“Very well, but first, tell me your name.”

Overjoyed, you looked up, forgetting decorum in your excitement, and recited what the mysterious figure had instructed.

“I am an orphan, taken in by my adoptive parents in a distant village at the foot of the western mountains. Because of our poverty, I left to seek my fortune, hoping not to burden them. But on my journey, I realized I had no skills and relied on a fortune teller’s words that I possess immortal essence, capable of becoming an immortal. Hence, I sought you out, praised for your wisdom and virtue, hoping for a chance…”

Though some words were rehearsed, your plea was genuine, and you struggled to hold back tears.

As you rambled, the deity extended a hand.

“Give me your hand.”

Without hesitation, you complied, feeling the deity's gentle sigh.

“Someone as naïve as you, how do you survive in this world of deceit?”

You didn’t understand his words fully but felt compelled to trust him despite your doubts about the mysterious figure. Trusting the deity felt right.

He lightly held your hand, channeling a stream of energy through you, refreshing your entire being.

“Your energy is stable, no harm done.”

He began to leave, but you clutched his sleeve, almost causing him to fall onto you.

“But Xian Jun, you haven’t answered my plea…”

Meeting his amber gaze, you realized the deity's striking beauty, making you stare in awe until a soft cough snapped you out of it.

“Reckless, how can you be so disrespectful to your master?”

Before you could process his words, a clean set of clothes appeared before you.

“Do not disgrace your master with your attire. People might think I cannot support you.”

A warmth spread through you, making you tear up as you instinctively reached out to him.

“Thank you, Xian Jun… thank you.”

Ignoring formalities, you saw him as your savior. His stiff arm slowly patted your shoulder in a gentle, comforting gesture.

“I hope you will learn much from this master.”

********************************************************************

“Master! Master! Your disciple is here!”

Your voice echoed through the forest. A hand paused over a guqin, looking towards the approaching figure, now resembling a young immortal.

“Good, you’ve arrived. What about the book…”

You pouted.

“Master, must I continue copying texts? It’s been three months of nothing but copying. Isn’t it enough to learn and practice the circulation of spiritual energy?”

“I’ve told you, understanding the principles and operations of all things is essential before using any technique or power.”

He gently guided a fallen bird to the ground with a breeze.

“Everything has a balance. You can borrow nature’s force to maintain harmony, but reckless actions disrupt this balance, resulting in backlash.”

You pondered the fallen bird and asked,

“If you hadn’t helped, it would have died. Could you revive it?”

His cold response pierced through your heart.

“Life and death are part of the cycle. Altering fate is forbidden. Best not to dwell on it.”

He stood, heading towards the pavilion where you often studied. Noticing your silence, he added,

“Flowers bloom and wither; that is the cycle of life. Would you want them to always bloom or always wither?”

Your heart lightened, you smiled warmly.

“I may not fully understand, but whether blooming or withering, I just want to see them with you.”

His composure wavered momentarily before he replied,

“Am I not here with you now?”

He resumed walking but added a final remark that made you hurry after him with a bright smile.

“Autumn is near; if you wish to see, only withered flowers are left.”

[brainddeadd]

Heart on My Sleeve

i listened to illusion by one direction and this happened

You stood in the corner of the room, your eyes fixed on Jack as he laughed with his friends. There was something magnetic about him—there always had been. His charm, his effortless smile, the way he moved through life like it was all one big joke that only he was in on. But that’s what scared you the most.

You'd heard the rumors. Everyone had. Jack Hughes, the NHL’s golden boy with the playboy reputation to match. It seemed like every time you scrolled through your phone, there was some new story about him being seen with another girl. And yet, here he was, staring at you from across the room like you were the only one that mattered.

But how could you trust him?

“Hey,” his voice broke through your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized he’d crossed the room. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to hear whatever smooth line he had prepared. But before you could refuse, Jack leaned in closer, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“No, baby, this is not an illusion,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “I’ve really got my heart out on my sleeve here. You don’t have to believe the stories. I just… I need you to believe me.”

Your heart ached at his words, torn between wanting to believe him and the fear that came with it. “Jack, I don’t know… I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I get it,” he nodded, taking a step back, giving you space. “I know I haven’t made it easy to trust me, but I’m not playing games with you. I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.”

You stared at him, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was a boy who was trying. His eyes were soft, filled with an emotion you hadn’t expected from him.

Jack reached for your hand, holding it gently. “I’m not perfect, but I want to be better. For you. And I know I’ve messed up before, but I’m asking for a chance to prove to you that I’m serious.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart racing as you felt the weight of his words. Was it really possible that Jack Hughes—the Jack Hughes—was being genuine? That he could change for you?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, comforting and steady. “I’m not asking you to trust me right away,” Jack said, his voice low and earnest. “Just… give me a chance to show you who I really am. Not the rumors, not the headlines—just me.”

The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at something deep inside of you. Maybe he wasn’t the playboy everyone made him out to be. Maybe, just maybe, he was someone worth taking a chance on.

You took a deep breath, and with it, a leap of faith. “Okay, Jack. I’ll give you a chance.”

His face broke into a smile—genuine and full of relief. He squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. “I won’t let you down.”

~~

The night was quiet, the soft hum of the city outside barely reaching the cozy confines of your apartment. The two of you had spent the evening watching movies, but now, as the credits rolled on the screen, it was just you and Jack sitting together, bathed in the warm glow of the lamplight. You hadn’t spoken much since you agreed to give him a chance, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was almost soothing.

Jack shifted beside you, turning to face you fully, his expression softer than usual. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice low, “about us.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat. “What about us?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, something he did when he was nervous. “I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but it’s always felt… temporary. Like they didn’t see me—really see me. But with you, it’s different. You make me feel like I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else.”

His words tugged at your heart, and you felt that familiar wave of fear. Jack had always been smooth, but this felt different—more real, more raw.

“Jack…” you started, but he cut you off, his hand gently resting on your cheek.

“I know you’re scared,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I know my reputation isn’t great, but I don’t care about any of that. I just want to be with you.”

The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—made your heart race. You leaned into his touch, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, you felt the walls around your heart begin to crumble.

“I’m scared because you could hurt me,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible. “But I want to believe you.”

Jack’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not ever.”

Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours, soft but full of intent. The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to show you everything he couldn’t put into words. It wasn’t rushed or heated—just intimate. Like it was just you and him, and nothing else in the world mattered.

When you pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you catching your breath. His thumb still traced slow circles on the back of your neck, his touch grounding you in the moment.

“I’m all in,” Jack whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Whatever this is, whatever we can be—I’m all in.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be real. That Jack wasn’t playing games, and neither were you. You were both laying everything out, raw and open, in this quiet, private moment.

“I’m all in, too,” you whispered back, the words feeling like a promise.

Jack smiled, a soft, genuine smile, and leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, deeper, as if sealing the vow you’d both just made. In the quiet of that moment, you felt your heart open just a little bit more, trusting that maybe, with Jack, you were safe.

[chatonarya]

I have been legitimately so completely and utterly floored by the entirety of Gnosis's oprec that I've simply been unable to even comment on it. I've glanced over it and reread parts of it two or three times for commentary on other things, and each instance I've looked at it, it's hit me with the force of a Crag Splitter and indeed, left me stunned.

I don't even know what to say about it, it's so obvious, so blatant, so unabashed in its earnestness and sincerity.

Enciodes literally was so taken and charmed by Gnosis (Gnosis! Who is a standoffish and stuck-up little bird even at presumed twelve years old!) that he promises to change the entire country for Gnosis so Gnosis will stay there. This is no exaggeration whatsoever, this is literally right there, verbatim, in the text.

Enciodes: I'll make Kjerag big enough for you. And you'll stay.

That's it. That's the future Enciodes promised him: a Kjerag that he would like, a country he didn't feel like running away from, a home that he would love--all so that Gnosis would stay with him.

This is love. Call it platonic if you wish, but this is a gesture so grand that it can't be called anything less. And Enciodes has kept his word! All those years later, modernizing Kjerag, making Gnosis CTO of Karlan Trade, making him Speaker of the Parliament--all of it is in part because of this promise. Of course, Enciodes would be changing Kjerag even without Gnosis because he's unhappy with Kjerag in its current state, but Gnosis is explicitly part of his motivation. He wants Kjerag to be big enough for Gnosis.

And even more impressively, Gnosis responds to this enormous gesture in kind!

Gnosis: If we're doing this, we'll make Kjerag big enough for the both of us.

Gnosis refuses to just let Enciodes make Kjerag big enough only for him--he wants Kjerag to be big enough for Enciodes too. If Enciodes is going to give it his all to make a Kjerag where Gnosis will be happy, then Gnosis is going to damned well make sure that Enciodes will be happy, too. The Kjerag that they're going to build together must have a place for both of them, both of their huge dreams.

They looked at each other and decided, "Yes, this is the person whom I am going to put my dreams together with. Yes, I am going to pursue a better future not just for my home, not just for myself, but a better future for this person, too. I am going to dedicate myself to a better future together with this person, and we will share that future."

These two are Kjerag's power couple and you cannot convince me otherwise.

[all-pacas]

You don’t seem to like Cameron very much either tbh it took me a while to realize you did (I don’t like her much but I also just never talk abt her). Like when Cameron treated House like you said in the disability post I thought it was nice because she is the only one who treats his disability seriously while everyone just assumed he’s faking it, but now I’m thinking yup she is kind of ableist 😬

I never stop talking about her! Of course I like her, lol

I like her a lot, but it’s true I’m sort of contrary and I dislike it when people overly smooth people out. I actually enjoy her myriad flaws, I think they make her more interesting. Like to continue the ableist thread, that’s an interesting character beat, right? That doesn’t mean it’s not a character flaw, but it says something about the character and how she treats and thinks of others. That her sympathy is genuine, but pushed onto people. That for all her empathy, she doesn’t always take the feelings of others into account.

This doesn’t make her an evil person. In fact, I think it’s clear that she’s painfully earnest, that she means very well, that her flaws are born out of sincerity and not malice. Contrast her ableist moments against Foreman’s refusal to treat poor people, his continued insistence that they ignore and discharge them. Or against Chase’s fatphobia, and the way he smiles to their faces and talks shit behind their backs. In comparison, at least Cameron appears to be trying for compassion.

I think Cameron makes mistakes. There are times she acts selfishly, or treats people poorly, or is hypocritical. I like her much more that way. One of my favorite things about her, actually, is that time and time again she’s made the butt of metatexual jokes: whenever she identifies with a patient, whether from Fidelity to The Itch, she’s shown to be wrong. She never helps. Her optimism always backfires, her hopes for a better and kinder world never pan out. The show practically laughs in her face. The lesbians are toxic. The homeless man dies in front of her. The first married couple breaks up; in the second one, the wife is poisoning her husband. The nice girl from the clinic is gonna die of lung cancer. Cameron never gets a win. She never gets to be right. And yet she never stops trying. She never gives in to easy cynicism. As much as I hate she was written off the show, she was able to draw a line and get out of a toxic situation and that’s awesome. Cameron fucks up. She’s stubborn and controlling and repressed and empathic and, yes, maybe a little ableist. But she tries and has standards and holds herself to them, and that’s very cool. I think she’s great. Even admirable. If she was perfect and composed and right and nice all the time, she’d be boring. She’s a mess and I love her for it.

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 6

“You gonna eat that?”

With a mouthful of unchewed food, Adam gestures toward your plate, his eyes fixed expectantly on your meal. The burger you ordered, despite its undoubtedly delicious flavor, lies largely untouched as you've found yourself lacking the appetite to indulge fully. Instead, you spend the time absentmindedly rearranging the fries on your plate, the clinking of your fork against your plate filling the brief silence between bites.

You hesitate, a fleeting expression of annoyance crossing your features. With a half-hearted glare, you shake your head in response before pushing the plate toward him. Already having devoured his own meal and now contentedly nibbling on the complimentary bread, Adam wastes no time in inhaling your meal. While you understand his large appetite, specifically after an energy-draining performance like the one he just delivered, you can help but feel unimpressed with his date-night manners. Or whatever you can call this.

"So," Adam begins, his words punctuated by a loud smack as he takes another bite. "Did you enjoy the concert?"

His question is predictable, dripping with a self-serving undertone that does little to disguise his own ego's thirst for validation. It still stings that this is the first question he asks and it's about him.

"It was... certainly loud," you reply nonchalantly, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of your praise.

Adam chuckles, clearly amused by your attempt at evading his question. "Oh, don't be coy, bitch" he retorts. "I saw you headbanging along. Surprised I didn't hear the rattle of your tiny ass brain."

You suppress a sigh, thinning your lips in annoyance as he cackles at his own joke.

"Seriously though, did you like it?" he presses, his tone shifting to a more earnest curiosity.

"Yeah, you did good, I guess," you concede, not wanting to feed his ego any further.

At your admission, Adam's demeanor undergoes a sudden transformation, his excitement bubbling to the surface like a switch being flipped. "Yeah? You had fun? You better have, since I gave you a free ticket and all. Don't expect that to happen again, slut. Unless you rock my world tonight. In which case, feel free to take a VIP pass"

Ignoring his rambling, you redirect the conversation to a topic that's been nagging at the back of your mind. "Yeah, which reminds me. Why did you give me a ticket in the first place?"

"Saw you talking to Saint Peter. You're real pretty," Adam confesses, a hint of sincerity softening his typically brash demeanor. Despite your frustration, a blush creeps across your cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

"And you’ve got a nice rack” There it is… “So I slipped you a ticket. Don't think I forgot you skipped out on the first one, though. I'm still mad about that. I had to track you down to give you a second. Good thing I peeped through your file. You can totally make it up to me tonight though," he adds, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of expectation.

"Okay, stop. You're being gross," you retort, attempting to brush off his suggestive remarks.

"No need to be a virgin-slut. Some bitches would kill to be watching me eat," Adam remarks casually, oblivious to your discomfort. "Which, by the way, why aren’t you eating? Trying to waste my money, you bitch?"

"No, I'm sorry, I just..." you start, searching for a plausible excuse. "I just didn't like the food."

"Why didn't you say so? I can buy you whatever. Pasta? Lobster?" Adam offers.

"Lobster?" you cringe, taken aback by the extravagance. "Isn't that too expensive?"

"I can buy whatever. I could buy this whole restaurant and force them to make you your favorite food," he boasts, taking a large bite of your burger before continuing, "Do you want that?"

"No, I'm just not hungry," you reply, growing increasingly exasperated with the conversation.

"Ah, now I'm starting to get it. Someone's nervous," Adam teases, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

At this point, irritation prickles beneath your skin, fueled by Adam's relentless ability to push your buttons. "Okay, and so what if I am?" you retort sharply, your frustration evident in your tone. "You're apparently some big hotshot who's trying to get into my pants."

For a rare moment, Adam falls uncharacteristically silent.. Then, bouncing back, he responds, "...is it working?"

Your groan echoes loudly in the space, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. Fortunately, the perfectly-timed arrival of the waiter to refill your drinks provides a welcomed distraction. Adam, ever the not-so-subtle opportunist, coughs loudly and gestures toward the waiter, silently urging you to consider ordering something else.

But you're not about to let Adam have the upper hand in this game.

"Excuse me," you announce firmly, flashing a wide grin as you catch Adam's waiting stare, "I think we're ready for our check." The waiter nods briskly and hurries off, leaving the two of you alone once more. As you steal a glance at Adam, his expression mirrors that of a triumphant cat who's just snagged a canary.

"Didn't know you were that ready for dessert," he quips, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

“Oh shut up!”

“Well, only if you—" Adam begins, but his sentence is abruptly interrupted by a wide yawn, his mouth full of food on display. "Man, I think eating so much has gotten me tired. We might have to postpone, babe. Maybe that'll even get you going—having to work for it," he chuckles, his tone teasing but sincere. He yawns again, eyes watering at the sensation. "Seriously though, we gotta call a rain check. I have a fat nap waiting for me."

Before you can respond, he continues, "But before you go, I figured we’d need to keep in touch."

With a flourish of his hand, Adam's fingers dance through the air with a grace that seems almost impossible for him. In a moment of astonishment, you watch as his movements conjure forth what appears to be a scroll, materializing out of thin air before your very eyes. The parchment unfurls in an elegant display, revealing intricate markings that shimmer with an ethereal glow.

But as your gaze lingers on the scroll, a strange realization dawns upon you—it's not a relic from ancient times, but rather… a phone?

Your jaw nearly hits the floor in shock as Adam casually enters his contact information. He hands it over, making sure his hand purposefully grazes over yours. You find yourself utterly flabbergasted by the realization that he has just gifted you a free phone.

“What the fu–”

"Welp!" Adam exclaims. With another dramatic flourish of his hand, a portal bursts open before you, crackling with wild golden sparks that dance in the air. "See ya!" he calls out cheerfully, giving you a playful shove toward the swirling vortex.

Before you can even protest or fully comprehend what's happening, you're hurtling through the portal, the world around you blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. The rush of wind whips past you, and for a heart-stopping moment, you feel weightless, untethered to reality. It’s the same sort of adrenaline you get when you spread your wings and soar, except this makes you feel like you’re going to hurl.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the chaos subsides, and you find yourself standing on your front porch, the familiar sights and sounds of home greeting you like an old friend. The portal vanishes behind you, leaving nothing but an upset stomach in its wake.

You take a moment to catch your breath, your heart still pounding from the unexpected journey. Glancing back at the spot where the portal once stood, you can't help but shake your head in amazement.

Thoughtlessly and still reeling from the whirlwind encounter with Adam, you go through the motions of heading inside and preparing for bed. Each step feels almost robotic, your mind still processing the surreal events of the evening as if in a haze.

Finally settled beneath the covers, you find yourself lying in bed, staring up at the dark expanse of the ceiling above. The events of the night replay in your mind like a vivid dream, a realization barrelling to the front of your mind with startling clarity.

You had fun.

Without conscious thought, your hand drifts to the bedside table, fingers curling around the sleek device Adam had gifted you. With a hesitant breath, you pull out the phone, its screen illuminating the dimly lit room with a soft glow.

For a moment, you hesitate, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your resolve. But then, with a resigned sigh, you unlock the device and begin to scroll through your contacts, your mind buzzing with questions and possibilities.

YOU:

I’m free next weekend

ADAM:

Fuck yeah, bitch

Cum to my concert Saturday and I’ll get u another ticket

We can go out afterwards

Ur treat lol

Jk still mine u broke bitch

YOU:

It's a date

As you wait in silence, your heart flutters with anticipation, your eyes fixed on the screen as you watch the three familiar dots appear and disappear, teasing you with the promise of a response. But as moments stretch into minutes, you begin to feel a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach.

The dots vanish completely, leaving the screen blank and devoid of any reply. A heavy silence lowers upon the room, punctuated only by the soft hum of the phone in your hand.

You wait a little longer, hoping against hope for some sign of life from the other end. But as the minutes tick by, it becomes painfully clear that no response is coming.

With a sigh of disappointment, you set the phone aside, resigning yourself to the quiet solitude of the night. As you drift off to sleep, your mind still filled with unanswered questions, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring—and whether Adam will be a part of it.

[blindmagdalena]

I hope you are taking care good care of yourself! I was just thinking about taking care of a sick Homelander, maybe another supe that can make other supers fall ill accidentally used their powers on Homelander, the supe gave him the equivalent of the flu, but Homelander being Homelander is needy and dramatic as fuck, forcing you to take care of him.

It's been two days since Homelander had a nasty run-in with a supe terrorist—sorry, super villain—who calls themselves Contagion. As the name implies, their power is the spread of disease through contact. At the time, Homelander had been dismissive of it, certain he would be immune. As it turns out, he absolutely is not. Luckily, it isn't lethal for him in the way it would be for just about anyone else. However, it has left him suffering side-effects the likes of which he has never experienced. On the bright side, it isn't contagious beyond initial infection, and you've been allowed to care for him while the malady wears off. In fact, he insisted upon it. He thoroughly refused to stay in Vought's medical ward.

"Babe," Homelander groans weakly. He's sprawled out on the couch, too stubborn to be resting by himself in the bedroom while you cook dinner, but too sick to be self-sufficient. You know it's serious because he's wearing pajamas. "My ice pack melted." Never have you heard him sound so full of self-pity. He's been relentlessly mopey through this experience. While you can't blame him, the flu is wretched, the theatrics are a little funny. You give a quiet laugh under your breath. Not quiet enough. "You're laughing," Homelander says flatly, still holding up that melted little ice pack. "I'm dying a slow, miserable death, and you're laughing." "You're not dying," you assure him, biting back a smile. You turn off the heat, cover the pot of soup, and retrieve a new ice pack from the freezer. You walk it to him, taking the lukewarm one from his extended hand. "The doctor said your system is fighting it exceptionally well. You're going to be alright." Homelander is quiet. He's pouting at you, you realize. His lips are pursed, brows deeply furrowed. His fever has improved, but his cheeks still have a pronounced flush to them.

He doesn't want facts. He wants comfort. "...But I know that it feels like you're dying," you continue, softening your tone. "Here, up," you say, gesturing for him to lift his head. He does so without hesitation, giving you just enough space to sit before he's crowding back down against you, nuzzling grumpily into your stomach. He slips his arm under your legs, wrapping it around to grip your thighs like a pillow. You press the cold gel pack to his forehead with one hand, and stroke through his hair with the other. He makes a soft, sad little noise, but it fades off into a sigh of relief. "There we go. I've got you, darling," you coo, brushing your thumb over his temple in soothing circles. He glances up sidelong at you, ill and with a deeply wounded ego. You smile sympathetically. "This will pass. I promise." "Don't laugh at me," he says, quiet and morose. "Okay," you relent, sincere. "I didn't mean it. Honest." Satisfied, he closes his eyes, turning his head into your touch. After a few moments, he opens his eyes, staring up at you, though his gaze seems distant. "I used to have dreams like this. Of being sick. Being taken care of. Eating chicken noodle soup. Just like in the movies." You hum, caressing his cheek with your knuckles. It makes your heart ache to think of him yearning for something like this. Dreaming of a taste of the normalcy he saw in fiction. "How does the reality compare?" "Awful," he says, pitch dropping. "But there's one part of it that's better." "Oh?" You prompt, intrigued. "What's that?" "You." It makes your heart skip a beat. Warmly, you smile down at him. "I love you." He smiles back weakly, but earnest nonetheless. "Love you, too." It makes all the more sense now why he was so adamant about being home with you, and not tended to by a dozen faceless professionals in a sterile hospital. For as miserable as this is, a small part of you is glad that he's been allowed this one deeply human experience, and that you have been the one to see him through it.

[innocent-artery]

What You Deserve

2.5k words

Summary: You come home pissed after a shitty ending to a situationship, and Sirius shows you how he should have treated you.

Pairing: Bestfriend!Sirius Black x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~

"Fucking wimp-ass, lazy, selfish-"

"Woah, woah, woah. What's got your panties in a twist?"

You threw your wand on the couch with what was likely more fury than the poor furniture deserved. You'd been grumbling under your breath, slamming the door and stomping your feet around the dormitory. "Fucking Jack, that's what," you huffed to Sirius, shedding your coat and shoes.

"Oh? Talk to me." Sirius pushed off from his place leaning on the doorway, unfolding his arms to place his hands in his pockets. He opted to lean instead on the post of his bed.

"So basically, I was in his dormitory, alright, and things were getting heated. Long story short, he refused to go down on me. No protests when it was the other way around, mind you."

Sirius' nose scrunched in disgust. "Sounds like him, at this point. I hate to say I told you so-"

"Then don't. I waited too long for him to come around, I could have predicted this."

"But I told you so. He doesn't give a damn about you."

You rolled your eyes. One of the few times Sirius was right, and brutally so. He watched you move around the dormitory, searching for a sign of hurt. He knew you well, knew you weren't the type to allow people to mistreat you or beg for the bare minimum, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt you when your attempts at a connection were met with indifference.

"You alright?" He asked softly.

You turned around, passing your tongue over your top teeth and giving a long sigh. "Yeah. Just annoyed."

"You know none of this is your fault, yeah? He doesn't know what the hell he's doing, you're too good for him."

You give him a smile. "I know," you teased. You couldn't deny that the look in his eyes, the earnest sincerity in his words, sent a blush to your cheeks.

"I mean it. You don't deserve that shit. You deserve someone who'll worship you, be grateful to go down on you."

Now that was something. Just the thought of such adoration sent sparks shooting down to your lower stomach, but when Sirius said it? You couldn't ignore the image that came to mind, of Sirius worshipping you. His hands tracing every inch of your skin, tongue following, going lower and lower, then maybe back up again for adoration’s sake. You wondered what he would do, whether he would take his time and tease you or absolutely ravage you with his tongue, what he would say and how it would sound and Christ-

Your hands acted of their own accord. You reached for his face, pulling him by his face to kiss him. His skin was warm under your touch, blood racing under the brush of your pinky finger. He was promptly shut up and quick to respond, large hands cradling your face, delicately, softly. His kisses were slow, but no less passionate and intoxicating.

Now, this wasn't the first time you'd kissed your friend. There'd been casual make-out sessions when you'd been drinking or bored, or casual pecks every once in a while. But this was different. In the previous times, you hadn't been so overcome with lust. You hadn't ached for him, hadn't needed him so thoroughly and deeply as you had now. You didn't crave the taste of his tongue even though it was already in your mouth, grasp at the collar of his shirt with the need to be impossibly closer to him. Not like you were now.

Sirius' lips trailed to your jaw, kissing slowly across the bone, down to your pulse point, over the column of your throat. His hand found purchase woven into your hair by your neck, gently holding your head back so that he could have full access to your neck. His other hand squeezed your waist, fingers slithering under the hem of your shirt to brush against bare skin, sending shivers up your spine that tore a soft, breathy moan from your lips.

At the sound, Sirius pulled away to look at you. His lips were swollen and red, a slight shine of spit coating them. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You nodded, breathless.

"Words."

"Yes." The word had barely left your lips before his were on yours again, pressing into you. With every step you took back to balance yourself, he took another forward, until you were backed against the wall. Your arms reached around his neck, holding him closer. One hand tugged at his raven locks, earning a delicious, downright sinful groan from him into your mouth.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, dove." He mumbled onto your neck, pressing deliberate kisses onto every patch of bare skin he could reach, licking and biting and sucking marks once he got to your collarbone, fingers tugging on the hem of your top to indicate for you to lift your arms as he pulled it over your head. His fingers trailed from your waist to the band of your pants, one finger from each hand hooking into a belt loop and pulling your hips forward, and over his knee, which made its way to being pressed between your thighs, causing you to gasp quietly. Your head was spinning from the excitement, your brain and body screaming for him. It was desperate, it was feral, it was hot.

"So pretty, love. Keep making those noises for me, sweet thing, love hearing 'em."

You could get drunk on the sound of him alone, but the feeling of his tongue trailing down your neck sent your body into overdrive. Sirius' hands found your thighs, where he grasped at the flesh before trailing up, up, and, to your partial and momentary dismay, up to your ass. Surprised by the sensation, you leaned into him, hips rolling in the process- creating sparks shooting down the pit of your stomach. A small whimper sounded in your throat at the sparks. Once you had a taste, you knew nothing but to chase it again.

Sirius, who'd heard the noise, was quick to oblige, guiding your hips against his until you'd found a pace grinding against each other. The bulge in his pants was unmistakable. Warm hands reached for your pants, unbuttoning so slowly it was painful.

"Sirius, please-"

You didn't know what you were begging for. You were too entranced by him to think properly, only knowing that it was so much and yet not enough.

"I know, I know. I got you." You could feel his lips pulling into a smirk against your shoulder, his hands tapping your thighs, followed by a quiet "jump". You were quick to oblige, leaping into his arms. His hands held you by the backs of your thighs, carrying you towards the bed before lying you down carefully.

"Fuck, you should see yourself. Stunning from this view." Sirius groaned, quick to hover over you, hands grazing your skin before hooking into your pants and tugging down firmly until they were discarded somewhere in the room.

"Christ, honey, you're gorgeous. Where've you been hiding this beautiful body?" Sirius seemed genuinely enthralled by the sight of you, eyes wide and lust-blown with his hands greedily reaching for your thighs, traveling up to your waist and groping your tits unabashedly. "Dunno how anyone could refuse you when you look like this."

Your chest instinctively pressed into his touch, breath stolen from your lungs when he kissed you again, nipping at your lower lip playfully before trailing his mouth down your throat down to your tits, where he was freeing them with one hand, easily snuck under your body due to the arch your back was making to meet him. His mouth was quick to latch onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it whilst paying due attention to the other with his hand.

All you could do was whine and moan underneath him, in a heavenly haze fueled by his words, how enraptured he was with you. How openly admiring he was of you. His hands, how he touched you as if it was an honor. As if he were paying homage to you.

Speaking of his hands, they slipped from your breasts to find the band of your underwear, fiddling with it while his mouth was occupied sucking marks onto your tits and stomach, licking them over afterwards in an almost doglike apology for the pain.

Sirius pressed his palm directly to your clothed, crying core, causing you to jolt.

"This wet already? I haven't even done anything, pet, what's got you so worked up?"

He damn well knew the answer to his question. He flashed you a smirk, holding eye contact with you before sinking to his knees, hands tugging your panties until they pooled at your ankles, then lost like the rest of your clothes.

His eyes couldn't move from the sight of your legs, spread open by his hands, sopping wet.

"Hell, baby, you're perfect." He groaned, crawling forward until his lips, to your surprise, meet the apex of your sex in a hot, searing kiss that has your head falling back into the pillow and hands flying into his hair.

"You taste heavenly, he must be mental not wanting to taste this pussy." His words were muffled but they rang so clearly in your ears, only encouraging your face to redden and hands to grasp his long curls tighter. You nearly prayed for him to spur on the fuzzy, tingly feeling that set your skin on fire.

It wasn't often that your daydreams came true, but in this case, it was to the tee. He devoured you, tongue working ceaselessly against your cunt while he nosed your clit, causing your hips to buck up into him.

"So sweet, doll, and so wet. Could eat you for hours." His actions certainly highlighted his enthusiasm, fingers caressing through your folds before pressing the middle digit into your weeping hole, curling it to hit a spot that had you crying out for him, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

"There we are. You like that, baby? Show me how much you like it."

"Sirius, Sirius, please," you moaned, rolling your hips into his mouth.

"That's right, keep saying my name. Maybe Jack will hear, and he'll learn a few things. Hear how good you feel."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words. You let out an almost pornographic moan when his finger, joined by another, found a quicker pace, rocking into you and pressing against that spot that had you seeing stars. Pressure was building up in your core, tumbling closer and closer.

"Yeah, just like that. Can feel you clenching around my fingers, honey, can't imagine how good it would feel around my cock."

"Siri, please, I'm close. Don't stop, don't you dare stop," You were cut off by a breathy chuckle, his fingers plunging in particularly rough that time.

"Wasn't planning on it, love, you taste so good I might not be able to."

With the thrilling combination of his voice, his tongue, and his hands, you were sent toppling over the edge, hips rocking slower and cunt gushing around him. Your moans became higher pitched and shorter, whinier, as you came undone underneath him.

You clutched onto his head like it was your lifeline as you came slowly down from your high, breathless and hazy and slightly sweaty. Even when the pleasure had subsided for jolts at the overstimulation, Sirius didn't stop licking every last drop from you. You whined, pussy clenching around nothing as he tongued your clit.

"Siri, please-"

"No, I'm not done with you yet. You've got one more in you, yeah? You can take one more."

You nodded, watching him through hooded eyes as he tugs his tee over his head hurriedly and does away with his pants, showcasing the impressive set of tattoos over his toned chest and the impressive tent that had long since been pitched.

"Gonna fuck any thoughts of that ass-hat right out of you," he grumbled, pulling his cock out before stroking it a few times, lining up with your pussy. He teased you with the tip a few times, pushing in just enough to stretch you, slapping it against your clit just to watch your face contort.

"What a perfect pussy. To die for, baby, 'm serious."

It took everything in you not to scream in pleasure when he pushed into you, deeper until he bottomed out. You both exhaled sharply before he started fucking you, slow at first but quickly finding a pace that was near animalistic. Slow, deep thrusts, hitting that damn spot in your pussy every. single. time.

"Fuck, keep milking me like that 'n I won't last," Sirius huffed, gripping your hips and pulling you closer, angling you so that he could go deeper. Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands scratching down his back as you moaned into the spot between his collar and his jaw.

Sirius' mouth was right by your ear as he murmured, "He can't fuck you like I can. He can't make you cum like I can. He doesn't deserve this pussy, my pussy."

You were breathless and dizzy, so overwhelmed by the sheer power of his thrusts, his hands going from your tits to rubbing deliberate circles against your clit. All of your senses were overwhelmed by pleasure, by him.

It wasn't long until you were approaching your second orgasm of the night, letting out shallow little gasps.

"Yeah, squeeze around me, just like that, milk my cock darling." His words were honey, addictive. You felt him throb inside of you. "Let go for me, love, cum for me."

Your cunt pulled his cock in, pulsating around it before spasming as you went right back into that glorious high, the one that made your hoarse voice go quiet and jaw slack in a silent scream before breaking into a gasp. Your spasming core couldn't handle it, squirting onto both of your thighs and surely making a mess on the sheets.

"Fuck, just when I thought you couldn't be any hotter." You felt him empty into you shortly after, his groans music to your ears. "So good, baby, so good for me."

The two of you lay there together, only the sound of heavy breathing audible in the room. The smell of sex permeated the room, suddenly warmer. Sirius gave your temple a kiss before pulling out, fingers reaching for your pussy to collect the cum oozing from it before bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean. He moaned around his own fingers, which was a sight in and of itself.

"Have I told you how damn good you taste?" He asks, a foggy smile tugging his mouth open.

"Yeah, but say it again."

Sirius gave you a devious look, one that you had come to know all too well.

"Or I could just show you."

~

Will there be a best friends to lovers series to come based on this? Yes, yes there will. Stay tuned and stay slutty.

Sirius Black Masterlist

Harry Potter Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[blackjackkent]

Shoutout to @amazonprimebox for letting me know that there is a CLOTHING BOX IN CAMP filled with every outfit and dye in the game! So we can put Hector back in his proper party clothes. <3

Thanks for providing that, Withers. Even the Lord of the End of Everything understands the importance of FASHION.

Look at how handsome this man is; it's not fair.

Anyway, Astarion next! And looking quite alive and unsinged; guess he got out of the sun fast enough.

"Well, look who decided to turn up!" he says brightly, as cheerfully sardonic as ever. "I wasn't sure our withered old friend could live up to his promise, but here we are. And look at you - straight from the Hells, still reeking of brimstone." He grins conspiratorially at Hector. "I take it you're having fun."

Hector grins crookedly. 'Fun' isn't always the word he would use - although sometimes it is, when they're able to step away from battle for a time. "It's been tough," he admits. "But at least I'm there with Karlach."

"Yes!" Astarion says brightly, leaning towards him. "The right person can make just about anything bearable. And it seems like you found exactly the right person." He pokes Hector gently in the chest.

Hector raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "You're in a good mood. Have you been drinking?"

Astarion scoffs. "Cheeky. I've been very well-behaved, thank you." He spreads his arms dramatically. "I've taken a turn as an adventurer and hero." He grins conspiratorially at Hector. "It turns out no one actually cares about murder, as long as you murder the right people. And apparently I'm rather good at it."

Hector remembers the party with the tieflings so long ago - Astarion's utter disgust at being hailed as a rescuer and hero. The vampire would never admit it but he has come a long way. Hector is too wise to tease him about it, but it is tempting, very tempting. "I could have told you that," he says instead, mildly, not making any attempt to hide the pride in his expression.

Astarion clicks his tongue. "Yes, but you say all sorts of things," he says airily. "Honestly, I don't even listen half the time." But he looks pleased, in spite of himself, shifts his weight a little side to side with muted energy.

"It made for a nice change, though," he goes on. "Inspiring hope in people instead of terror." A pause; then he laughs. "Well, I do try to inspire a *little* terror. I'm still me, after all."

Hector chuckles. He thinks - though Astarion would never say this either - that he can take some credit for his friend finding fulfillment in this new path, and he feels more than a little gratified about it. But he knows Astarion wouldn't appreciate the sentimentality, so he just tilts his head teasingly.

"You seem happy. Are you sure you haven't been drinking blood?"

"No," Astarion says, with a flash of that uncharacteristic earnestness that he has shown from time to time. "This is all me, I swear." A pause; he huffs out a sigh and shrugs. "Don't get me wrong - I was a mess at first. Every day I yearned for the sun and mourned my curse to live in the shadows. But in time... I realized that darkness is as much a part of me as my fangs. This is only a curse as long as I refuse to embrace the shadows. So I decided I would."

He narrows his eyes with a determined, resolute air. "I decided not to be defined by the choices other people made - by what other people did to me. My past may be done, but my present - my future - they're mine."

Hector's smile fades and he nods back just as seriously. It's rare that Astarion speaks to him without the mask, and he will not give him less than a sober response. "I'm glad to hear it," he says softly. "Acceptance looks good on you."

Astarion's eyes brighten and he gives perhaps the most sincere smile Hector has ever seen from him - a sentimental, grateful expression that slips like water across his face and then disappears as the mask slips back into place. "That being said," he goes on casually. "I haven't completely given up on returning to the sun. If the opportunity presented itself, well... I wouldn't say no."

He looks Hector up and down thoughtfully, then chuckles. "We have had quite the journey, you and I. From the moment I first threatened you, I knew you were someone special - someone to take on the world with."

The mask slips again and, astonishingly, he reaches out to touch Hector's arm - very briefly, a light contact before withdrawing. "I will miss our time together. But then again... maybe this isn't goodbye, so much as it's..."

He trails off, and then the old wicked playfulness sparks in his eyes.

"See you later, darling."

[dc-and-arfrona]

Playing Him (2/2)

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Part 2 of: Playing Him Too?

Masterlist

The streets of Gotham were enveloped in darkness as shadows danced among the flickering streetlights. It was in this unforgiving night that fate wove its intricate tapestry, bringing them together once more. Jason, injured and in need of help, found himself stumbling upon the reader's doorstep.

With a pained groan, he leaned against the doorway, clutching his side. His body was battered, his spirit weary, and his heart weighed down by the ghosts of their past encounter. Little did he know that destiny had a twisted sense of irony, leading him back to the very person who had once shattered his trust.

The door creaked open, and there stood the reader, their eyes widening with a mix of surprise and concern. The sight of Jason, wounded and vulnerable, tugged at their heartstrings, eroding the barriers they had built to protect themselves.

Without hesitation, the reader stepped forward, their voice filled with a desperate plea. "Please, let me help you," they implored, their words laced with a newfound sincerity. "I know I've made mistakes, but I can't bear to see you like this."

Jason's gaze met theirs, his eyes reflecting the pain etched deep within his soul. A war raged within him—between the memories of their bitter parting and the lingering love that refused to fade away. Slowly, he nodded, his defenses crumbling in the face of their genuine concern.

As they guided him inside, a fragile silence settled between them, pregnant with unspoken emotions. The reader's hands trembled as they tended to his wounds, each touch a mixture of tenderness and regret. With each careful movement, they hoped to convey the depth of their remorse and the earnest desire to make amends.

Jason winced as their fingertips grazed his injured side, but his gaze never wavered from theirs. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a flicker of longing that mirrored their own. In that moment, the truth became clear—their connection was not forged from mere games and deceit, but from a love that had weathered storms and survived despite the odds.

"I thought I could walk away from you," the reader whispered, their voice laced with regret. "But the truth is, you're the one who holds my heart, even in the darkest corners of my mind."

Jason's features softened, the walls around his heart showing cracks as he allowed their words to sink in. "I've carried the weight of your absence," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "In this godforsaken world, you were the only light that mattered. And I was wrong to label you as the worst of them all."

Tears welled in the reader's eyes, their voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry for the pain I've caused," they pleaded, their voice filled with an urgency born from the fear of losing what they held most dear. "Please, give me a chance to prove that my love for you is real."

For a fleeting moment, time stood still—a suspended breath between them, hanging in the air like fragile hope. And then, with a mixture of hesitation and determination, Jason reached out, his hand cupping their cheek.

"I don't know if I can mend what's broken," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But if you're willing to fight alongside me, to rebuild what we once had, then maybe... just maybe, we can find our way back to each other."

In that moment, the reader's heart soared, their own hand finding solace in his touch. A flicker of hope ignited within them, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

They had made mistakes, their love had been tarnished, but perhaps in the ashes of their shattered trust, they could find the strength to rebuild, to rewrite their story with authenticity and a renewed sense of devotion.

As they stood there, their hands intertwined, they knew that the road ahead would not be easy. But together, they were ready to face the challenges, to confront their demons, and to fight for the love that had always burned bright beneath the surface.

In the depths of Gotham's night, where shadows danced and wounds healed, they vowed to embark on a journey of healing, forgiveness, and the relentless pursuit of a love that refused to be shattered.